


Mixed Up Dreams

by phoenixgal



Series: Scenes from a Life [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Dreams, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Gen, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Platonic Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 04:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10506063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixgal/pseuds/phoenixgal
Summary: Harry has a disturbing dream while on the run looking for horcruxes. Hermione gives comfort.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I originally had this as part of a short series of bits specifically about Harry's friendship with Ron and Hermione in this world, but I don't exactly know how it was going to come together so even though it doesn't quite fit, I'm sticking it on here.

_It's Number Four Privet Drive. He doesn't even question why he's there but heads right to the cupboard that he still thinks of as his own. When he opens the door and steps inside, he's able to stand up, which he really shouldn't be able to do, but he doesn't question that it's bigger than it should be. It's still the cupboard, still has his bed. But on the bed is Dumbledore._

_Dumbledore has clearly been asleep. He's in pajamas and doesn't have on his spectacles. Or, maybe he's not in pajamas. Maybe he's naked. Only, Harry can't really see that he's naked. He just sort knows that he's naked. In the bed with him, probably also naked is a young man with dark hair and an almost dainty mustache._

_“What are you doing, Professor?”_

_“Don't mind us, Harry,” Dumbledore replies. “Go along now and find the horcruxes.”_

_But the young man suddenly looks sinister. He almost looks like Tom Riddle, Harry realizes, but then that doesn't seem right. “Stay, boy,” the man says. “We'll have fun with you.”_

______ _ _

_Harry backs away out of the cupboard and into the house, only it's no longer Number Four. It's the common room back at Hogwarts. Ron is seated on the back of the sofa, also naked. Unlike Dumbledore, he's not a blur. Harry can see everything about him. Not that anything is especially a surprise. He's seen all the Gryffindor boys his year naked in their dorm room and the showers for years. But somehow this is different._

_Ron stands up and Harry feels embraced by him. This doesn't feel right, yet it does feel exciting. Harry can feel arousal rush through him, but also a sense of panic. Ron's hands snake around him, holding him and Harry wants to melt into the touch, but he also feels Ron's touch between his legs, a sort of amorphous caress that makes him want to pant and thrust and dissolve._

_“You can't run,” Ron says into his ear and there's a sneer to his voice._

_“What?” Harry asks. He turns and looks and Ron looks like he's been imperioused. He's staring off in another direction so Harry follows his gaze, only to see an army of Death Eaters, robed, laughing, almost floating like Dementors, coming from all directions._

_He feels the scream catch in his throat and he fights against some invisible force preventing him from crying out. He fights it hard, pushing against it to make his voice be heard._

Harry woke up with a hoarse cry on his lips, disoriented. Every message in his body was contradictory. He was freezing but covered in sweat, vision blurred but eyes opened wide, heart pounding in fear but his prick still erect and wanting.

He took gulps of air, trying to make the world come right again. Ron had been there, but no, Ron was gone now.

“Harry?” Hermione's voice came from the bed on the other side of the tent. “Are you all right?”

“Not by half,” he said, finding that his voice was shaking. The dream had taken it away at the end and it's almost like he had to get it back.

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He heard the shuffling of blankets and Hermione came to sit on his bed. She didn't bother to turn on a light.

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“Just a dream,” he said, though whether he was trying to reassure Hermione or himself, he wasn't sure.

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“One of those dreams?” Her voice was questioning. If Voldemort had been in his head, they would need to run.

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“No,” he said. “I don't think so. No. My scar didn't hurt.”

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“A nightmare then.”

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“Sort of.” The details of the dream were slipping away already and he couldn't quite remember everything about what had happened. Who had been with Dumbledore in his cupboard? Why had Ron been naked? He shivered.

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“Harry, you're shaking,” Hermione said.

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“It's cold.”

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“Not that cold.” There was a shuffling and Harry found himself hugged close by Hermione, who was warm and calm. She smelled of dirt and sweat, but he supposed he did as well. It wasn't unpleasant.

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Without thinking much about it because the adrenaline was still coursing through him, he pulled her down into the bed with him, almost clinging to her, burying his face in her wild hair. He felt tears prickling at his eyes and closed them, pressing them back.

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She sighed and he understood a little what was in that sigh. This was what they were reduced to. It was just them, alone. They had no leads. They had an impossible task.

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They rarely touched and Harry realized with a start that he wasn't sure when was the last time anyone had touched him at all. It made him want to pull Hermione closer, as if by her small embrace, she had triggered a need in him just to be held.

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“Um, Harry,” she said, sounding uncomfortable and squirming against his arms, making as if to stand up. “I don't… I mean… Please don't...”

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He realized that the way he had held her that she could feel his still persistent erection through his track suit bottoms. His cheeks burned and he stuttered as she sat up, pulling himself back.

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“No. God, no. I'm sorry, Hermione. It just does that. It wasn't… I swear...”

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She snorted slightly and he hoped that was a good sign.

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“Please don't go,” he said, feeling small and weak. “Please. I… Really, you're like a sister to me. I didn't mean… that.”

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“Yeah,” she said quietly. “All right.”

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Harry thought she also must have needed touch because she sank back into the bed. Still he felt the need to reassure her, which was the only explanation he could give for what popped out of his mouth next.

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“Honestly, I don't even know if I like girls like that.”

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There was a pause and Harry realized what he had said, something he had never voiced before. And he didn't even think it was true. Hadn't he felt all fluttery every time he was around Cho at age 14? Hadn't he practically drooled the first time he saw a veela? Hadn't he wanked and thought of Ginny enough times the previous year? But the seed of the idea had been planted in him at some point and it was proving harder and harder to shake on the ever rarer moments that he thought about anything but hunting down all the bits of Voldemort's soul. What if he liked blokes? He knew it happened sometimes. Neville had confided as much in him. Dreams like the one he just had, confused and scary and erotic all at once, didn't make anything clearer.

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“Oh,” Hermione said at last. “I… I had no idea.”

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“Forget I said anything,” Harry said. “Please. And please don't tell…”

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“Of course,” she said, feelingly. “Maybe if we ever… get out of here, you don't need to mention this either.”

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It was the closest they'd come to mentioning Ron in a long time. “Yeah,” Harry said. No matter what his dream had tried to tell him, he knew where his best friend's heart was. He didn't even think he was in love with Ron. Ron had just always been there. Once Ron and Hermione finally stopped skirting the issue and got together at last, Harry was sure any lingering feelings would go away. He wanted the best for them. And for himself. Though all of that assumed they would all have that time one day. It seemed impossible.

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“It's okay if you are,” Hermione said in the darkness. “Gay, I mean. I don't care.”

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Trust Hermione to need to spell it out, Harry thought.

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“When this is all over, you'll have loads of time to figure it all out. You don't have to know now. You have time.”

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There was a nagging voice in the back of Harry's mind that said he didn't have time, but he liked listening to Hermione.

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“Thanks,” he whispered.

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Her hair tickled his face as they shared a single pillow and she let him interlace their fingers together. Slowly, they both drifted back to sleep to get what rest they could before moving in the morning.


End file.
